


Mistakes Were Made

by dubpubs



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Apritello, Awkward Romance, F/M, get together story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23697004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dubpubs/pseuds/dubpubs
Summary: One month post Jones/O'Neil break up, Donnie and April dare to get wine-drunk together. Nothing at all interesting ensues. Nope. Nothing at all.
Relationships: Donatello/April O'Neil (TMNT)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, if there's one thing in this life i'm good at, it's writing wordy, dramatic, emotionally driven get-together fics whose plots are fueled entirely by miscommunication, mutual pining, and awkwardness, so. it was only a matter of time before I came for Donnie and April. and now it's their turn to suffer through my bullshit. can't stop me lol

“Something to drink?” April calls out from her tiny kitchen.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Donnie says from his relaxed position on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. “Whatcha got?” The floorboards of her old building creak their way towards him, and the 6-foot-and-some-change mutant turtle looks up to see his best friend standing there in sweats and bunny slippers, both arms behind her back.

“How doess... eight dollar bottles of wine sound?” Whisking her arms from behind her back, April reveals two of the aforementioned bottles, wiggling her wrists to make them dance about.

Donnie’s tooth gap flashes out from a devious grin. “Ah, O’Neil, I love your mind.” 

April clicks her tongue at him and winks with a “comin’ right up” before disappearing back into the kitchen, and Donnie turns back to his phone, expertly ignoring the small uptick in his heartbeat.

Donatello was more excited than he maybe should’ve been when earlier that day April, after declaring they’d both been working too hard lately, had invited him over to her place to hang out. Just the two of them, like old times. It was something that used to occur often, but not so much once April and Casey began trying their hand at being a couple almost a year ago. 

And man, had Donnie missed it. He missed geeking out with her over nerdy documentaries and BBC shows no one else would watch with him; he missed the sharp banter over bad movies, the hours of easy conversation, the occasional cuddle… everything. Shell, he’d _more_ than missed it. But he couldn’t figure out a way to tell April any of that without dredging up the same kind of tension from that awkward first year of their friendship, back when he had not-so-subtly fawned over her like an immature dork and she had politely pretended not to notice.

But he’s not a teenager anymore, and he is _not_ that guy anymore, so he’ll gladly keep how much he missed their one-on-one time to himself. At twenty-one years of age, Donatello is proud to say his relationship with April is in a place that he’s actually, truly happy with. Things are chill between them now. Yeah, okay, he’s still in love with her (by this point he seriously doubts he could ever _not_ love April… she’s very loveable). But he no longer spends any time dwelling on the pity-kiss she gave him when he was sixteen; no longer allows himself to entertain ideas of some elusive “next level” that could someday-somehow ( _will never_ ) be achieved. 

They’ve known each other for six years. If April was ever going to see him in a more romantic light, she would have by now. And he understands now, it’s _okay_ that she doesn’t, or… can’t. Because at the end of the day, he gets the privilege of holding the ‘best friend’ title, as she does for him, and being her friend is not a role he takes lightly, or for granted. There’s no one in this universe who makes him laugh, who listens to him, who _gets_ him like April O’Neil does. After all they've endured together, the special brand of closeness he’s come to share with her is something Donnie cherishes with all his heart, and he’s not about to do a damn thing to mess that up.

The genius turtle sighs and slips his phone back into his belt, glancing around April’s cramped living room while he waits for her to return. Not for the first time, he’s hit with a feeling of gratitude that Mr. O’Neil is well-off, and could afford rent on a one bedroom in Manhattan for his daughter while she goes through university. April having a roommate _really_ would’ve put a damper on her being able to have mutant visitors over. 

A smile comes to Donnie’s face when his brown eyes rove over the top of her bookcase, which has been dedicated to framed photos of their shared, oddball family (it’s worth it to April to keep up plenty of pictures of them, despite having to put them all away any time a human comes over that’s not Casey or her dad - and Don can’t help but love her all the more for it). There’s a selfie of himself and April making silly faces while she throws up bunny  ears behind his head; another of her goofing around on a rooftop with his brothers; a larger photo of all 6 of them wearing horrible sweaters and ninja posing in front of a Christmas tree. A smaller one of the redhead formally presenting a newly-acquired, glinting  tantō blade to the camera,  standing tall in front of an immensely proud-looking Master Splinter. 

Donnie can’t look at that particular photo for too long without his throat feeling tight, and quickly moves on. His gaze ends up lingering on a picture of himself, April and Casey; her in the middle with her wiry arms slung around both their necks, giant, cheesy grins on all three of their faces.

The tall turtle's cheeks puff out slightly as he lets out a long breath. April and Casey hadn’t quite made it to a year of dating. A few days over eleven months, to be exact. Eleven months of those two being an item… and what a weird whirlwind it had been. It had sucked way more in the beginning, before Donnie realized that he didn’t actually have to witness too much of the coupley stuff that went on between his two human friends. It’s not like they were ever making out in front of him or anything. They kept the PDA to a minimum at the lair, and you could barely tell they were dating at all while on missions or patrol (Donnie suspects those were more April’s terms than Casey’s).

He’s not going to lie and say it hadn’t hurt to see April with someone else. But Don had made a real effort to never let that hurt show on his face, which paid off -- besides seeing a lot less of them, neither of his friendships suffered because of it. And luckily, when it all came crumbling down, despite both Casey and April having personalities that made their relationship a bit, er, _explosive_ at the worst of times, their split had been for the most part amicable. And mutual, from what Donnie had gathered. Besides that first awkward week, their whole group dynamic has stayed pretty normal in the month since the split. 

He doesn’t really know the details of _why_ they broke up. April hasn’t opened up to him about it, nor has Casey to Raph (which is just _soo_ surprising, considering how _easy_ Raph is to talk to about feelings...). And while Donatello is admittedly very curious, he’s not planning on ever asking. Honestly, Donnie hadn’t really known how to feel when he first learned April was single again, seeing as he’d resigned himself to her and Casey being a done-deal a long time ago. He certainly isn’t _sad_ about it, but... ‘happy’ isn’t the right word for what he feels, either. He just… he wants _April_ to be happy. He wants Casey to be happy too, though he’d never say that to Jones’s face. 

Apparently, them dating each other hadn’t done the happiness trick. 

“Wanna order a pizza?” Don’s head snaps away from the bookshelf as April strides back into the room, clutching 2 full mugs in one hand and an open bottle of wine in the other. Donnie just raises a purple brow ridge at her, and April purses her lips in concession. “Right, dumb question.”

Don shakes his head, pressing an oh-so-hurt palm to his upper plastron. “Wow, it’s like you don’t know me at all anymore...” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Once the pizza is ordered and a carefully selected episode of _How It’s Made_ is playing on the television, April sets down the remote, taking a long swig of her drink before she reaches for a beat up deck of ‘I heart NY’ cards on the coffee table. “Rummy?” She asks without looking at him, already going about shuffling the deck, causing a familiar, comfortable happiness to bubble up in the turtle’s chest. It’s a game they mostly only played together, as none of the others seem to have the patience for it aside from occasionally Leo - but Don likes to think of it as just theirs. 

“Sure, if you’re prepared to be demolished again,” Donnie answers with a shrug, taking an extra smug sip of some - wow, _very_ tart red wine.

April shoots him a long-suffering look without pausing her thorough card-shuffling. “Uh huh. We’ll see, smart guy.” 

A couple hours into the night Don and April are giggling, riding on an endless commentary train about the atrocious horror movie currently on the screen (somehow they ended up watching Troll 2, when over a google search of the worst movies of all time it was discovered that neither of them had ever actually seen it, which needed to be remedied _immediately_ ). One of the wine bottles sits empty on the snack-cluttered coffee table, the other well on its way to being just as empty, the abandoned deck of cards between them. 

It’s not easy for Donatello to get full-on drunk, being a giant turtle with extremely high muscle mass and a mutagenically-enhanced metabolism... but he is definitely feelin’ a little something right now. With his stomach full of wine and jalapeño-pineapple pizza, and April laughing at his side - sitting much, _much_ closer to him than she was 2 hours ago, he can’t help but note - Donnie is basically walking on air.

“-Uhp, yup, there she goes, mutating… anddd she’s salad. It’s - that is _mutagen_ I tell ya, that old witch lady’s slingin’ mutagen.”

“I mean come onnn. Girl drinks mysterious green substance and mutates into plant matter? Where have we heard _that_ before.” Don cups one hand around his mouth and jeers toward the screen, “why don’tcha get some original material, _Troll 2_.”

“What if, the Kraang _made_ this movie,” April’s eyes squint gravely, like she’s just made the discovery of the century. “Like, the dialogue totally could’a been written by Kraang. S’pretty bad.”

“You… may have something there.”

“Uh, I _defint’ly_ do.” April tosses back the rest of her drink, barely waiting a second before reaching for the neck of the wine bottle to refill it. She wordlessly refills his mug, too, before Donnie can ask or decline. It’s not really typical of April to drink so much that her words have started to slur together, her cheeks well on their way to matching her hair color… but they’re having fun, and it’s been so long since they last got to do this, so Donnie doesn’t think too much of the overindulgence. April works so hard in everything she does, it’s nice to see her cut loose now and then. Besides, neither of them have anywhere to be tomorrow besides afternoon training.

Donatello and April dramatically groan in unison when the crazy-eyed old man on the screen offers a half gallon of what is deemed “special milk” to a sweaty looking teen.

“ _Oh_ , of coursee’s takin’ it - yo! Don’t drink the friggin’ milk!” Chex mix clinks off the small flat screen and rains onto the thrifted carpet, thanks to a sloppy throw from April. “Ugh, whuz’ _with_ kids in this movie drinking stuff from creepy old people just ‘cuzit’s _free_.”

“Pfff, like you wouldn’t take the free special milk,” Donnie scoffs. “Get off your high horse, April - hey!” The tipsy mutant giggles and puts up a hand to shield himself when April’s snack throwing arm turns on him.

April somehow ends up a few inches closer to him on the couch once the Chex mix war dies down. “Huh,” she shakes her head, unimpressed, “they’re really never gonna explain the over’bundance of bland white guys wearin’ cowboy hats and serial killer glasses, are they.”

“F’they did, then they’d have to explain the American midwest.” Donnie snorts at his own bad joke, looks over to see April’s reaction, only to find her gazing at him blankly. Her lips are parted, the moony expression on her face not at all in line with the lighthearted atmosphere from a second ago. “What?” He chuckles, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes jokingly when her expression doesn’t flinch. “Ohh come on, that was a little bit funny… or not.” Donnie’s laugh becomes slightly awkward when still April doesn’t give any indication she’d heard him, and he waves a 3-fingered hand in front of her face. “Hellooo, Apriilll… anybody home?”

April blinks twice and inhales sharply through her nose, her flushed cheeks turning one shade redder. “...Hm? Ohhwow. I jus’zoned out _hard_.”

“No worries, McFlurries.” Don gives her an easy smile. He leans back to rest his long arms along the back of the couch, then starts to roll his shoulders, his round face scrunching up into a pout. 

“Aw, sewer apples. Ya dun’ got Chex Mix in muh’shell,” Donnie grumbles in his best impression of a bland dude in a cowboy hat and serial killer glasses. 

Before he can lift a finger to fix the issue, April turns her body fully towards him and reaches behind his neck, responding in a terrible cowboy accent of her own, “mah apologies son, lemme get that for ya.”

“Oh, uh - sure.” 

She dips a soft, slim hand into the rarely-touched pocket between his shoulder blades and the inside of his shell, and Donnie has no idea what to do with his hands all of a sudden, repositioning them a few times before he settles on clasping them in his lap. Something about the hair-too-slow, almost tender way April goes about her self-assigned task has Donatello’s insides squirming, and the turtle shivers audibly when she successfully draws out a small handful of chex. April just releases a little purr of a laugh, giving his mask tails a light, playful tug.

“You ticklish back there, Dee?”

The air in the room has become several degrees hotter within the last 60 seconds, leaving Donnie scratching his head over how or why it happened. It’s hard for him to look directly at her face, the ghost of her touch still tingling on his skin as he responds somewhat shyly, “nah, not really... just kinda sensitive, I guess.”

“Huh,” April smirks, fixing his mask tails so that they’re draped neatly over one shoulder before she turns back to the TV, reaches for her mug. “Well, I’ll be sure t'make a note of that.”

Donnie is left blinking at his friend’s profile a few times in a row, his brow ridges raised high on his forehead, before he turns stiffly back to the tv himself, forcing out what he hopes is a normal-sounding laugh. 

_Uhh, what the heck was that?!_

_That_ was… a lot of touching. And it sure as heck felt like April was flirting with him just now. Which is not something April does, ever, not like that anyway. But - maybe he’s reading too much into it? 

_She’s just goofing around. Don’t make it weird!_

Donnie puts more effort into focusing on the movie and tries not to think any more about that weird exchange. If he lets himself think about it, then he’ll just end up over analyzing every single minute detail, and he doesn’t want to read into things that aren’t there. Not anymore. He’s past all that. Him and April, they’re cool now… friends. Perfectly simpatico, friends. 

Donatello tries with all his might not to think anything of it when a few minutes later, April nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck. Or when she sighs out drowsily, “ugh, yer’so great, Dee...” Really, it was nothing she hadn’t done or said before, right? _But_ , his brain interjects, _never at the same time..._ Combined with all the touching and weird maybe-flirting from earlier, the whole situation felt ten times more intimate, what with the alcohol in his system leaving his limbs loose and fuzzy-feeling, the soft puffs of breath meeting his neck sending shivers down his shell, the sweet scent of her hair, free of its usual ponytail and waterfalling over his shoulder, somehow more potent than ever.

He plucks up the courage to steal a peek down at the girl cuddled into his side, surprised to find her already staring back. And suddenly Donnie’s heartbeat is stuttering into overdrive, heat flaming his cheeks and quickly spreading all the way down his neck, because _one_ , April’s face is very, very close to his - like, so close he could count and catalogue each freckle on her face if he wanted - a-and, and _two_ , the woman he is stupidly in love with isn’t just looking at him, she is _looking_ at him, like.... _like_... 

He doesn’t allow himself to think the thought aloud. But he definitely can’t remember April ever looking at him that way before. Donatello gulps, hypnotized by the two sparkling pools of blue blinking slowly back at him, half lidded, flitting back and forth between his own wide eyes. His stomach does a somersault when her line of vision flicks down to the general area of his mouth. 

Okay fine, he’ll think it: if he’s not mistaken, these are straight up _bedroom eyes_ April is so blatantly giving him. An achy sort of warmth begins to pool between his legs the moment he admits it to himself, much to his embarrassment. Why, why is April giving him bedroom eyes?!

“Hi,” she says with a grin, breaking the charged silence. Donnie tries not to flinch as her fingers curl around the lip of his plastron, her nails grazing the sensitive skin behind it. 

Equally bewildered as he is aroused, it takes the mutant a second to find his voice, mouth dry as the surface of Mars. “Heh... he-hey.” His voice cracks, and Donatello curses everything because evidently some prolonged eye contact and a bit of flirty touching is all it takes to revert him back into a dopey, clueless fifteen-year-old. His insufferable awkwardness gets rewarded with a delighted giggle from April, and she reaches up to let the tails of his mask run slowly through her fingers again. Donnie, cemented in deer-in-headlights mode, wracks his brain to figure out how the hell their easy, platonic nerdfest turned into _this._

“Man… you have, really pretty eyes,” April says next, making the turtle’s blush burn brighter. “S’anyone ever told you that?” 

Don’s blank stare slides off to the side and back, as if waiting for the punchline. “Uhmm... no?”

“Well, you do,” She boops the tip of his beak. “People should tell you that.” 

Yep, nooo idea what to say to that one, so he goes with a silent nod. The redhead sighs airily and wiggles a bit in her seat, her fingertips drumming against his plastron… then drags her teeth over her pink lower lip, averting her gaze so that her long, gorgeous eyelashes dust the tops of her cheeks. Donnie breaks out into a nervous sweat next to her, paralyzed, helplessly waiting for whatever this ultra-flirty version of his friend is going to say or do next. 

“Sooo,” April says _way_ too casually, “feel free to say no t’this? An’ I’m sorry if this’s weird to ask buuut... would you, maybe wanna,” her hooded eyes lock back onto his, “make out?”

Donnie stops breathing for a good 3 seconds, his eyes doubling in size.

“D-whuh?” he wheezes, positive he must have misheard her, or misinterpreted, or _something_.

April covers her face with one hand in the most adorable way possible, blushing and giggling behind it like a kid with a crush. “Oh nooo. Wha’zat, not cool to ask?”

“Zah… h-huh,” Donnie can’t seem to form proper words, only breathy syllables - goddammit, he feels like such a loser right now - but incredibly, April doesn’t seem put off by his complete inability to say or do anything. She leans closer, her eyes honing in on his lips like a magnet.

“M’sorryy, Dee... I don’wanna make things weird, s’just - this’sucha great night, an’ you’re so cute and... I think, stuff could be even _more_ great ifweee…”

She walks her fingers up one chiseled green arm as she trails off, still glued to his side and glancing back and forth between his eyes and lips, while Donnie scrambles to process this new information. April thinks he’s cute, apparently? And is gunnin’ to make out with him? Since _when_ , where is all this coming from??

And then Donnie’s eyes land on April’s favorite yellow mug on the coffee table, and things start clicking into place within his sluggish, thoroughly rattled brain. Shit. How many of those had she had again? He hadn’t been keeping track… more than him for sure. But her blue eyes are sleepy-looking and glazed over and she’s noticeably slurring her words - not what anyone would readily call ‘of sound mind and body.’ He’s pretty tipsy himself.  Ah, man. Of all the ways he’d imagined him and April finally crossing into more romantic territory, this was not it. So, so far from it. 

When she closes her eyes and lifts herself up towards his face, Donnie is finally able to unfreeze. “April,” he mutters weakly, dodging her clumsy attempt at a kiss. She takes the hint and leans back.

“Oo. You don’t want to,” she says, more of a statement than a question. The crestfallen look on her freckled face pierces him straight through the heart, and he can’t _not_ refute her very, very untrue statement.

“N-no, it's... s’not that. I just...” Donnie swallows hard, reminding himself again why he’s not allowed to indulge in this, “we’ve, we’ve been drinking, and-”

“So?”

“ _So_?” he repeats, exasperated, “So you’re my friend April, and I don’t… I don’wanna do anything y- we’ll regret in the morning. Y’know?”

He looks away, his fingers finding their way around his shoulder strap. Having this conversation with her at all is so surreal. 

“Hey...” April takes him by the chin, gently turning his face back to hers. “I wouldn’t,” she insists, her voice soft and a tad more sober-sounding. Her dark lashes descend and rise with another one of those slow blinks, then she clarifies, “regret it.”

Donatello swallows hard, really wishing she would stop staring him down like that, because this sort of heated, gorgeous sky-blue eye contact has absolutely got something stirring down below again and if that keeps happening, he is 100% going to embarrass himself. Any response he has for that gets stuck in his throat. He’s not sure how much he should reveal concerning feelings neither of them have acknowledged in years, or how serious she is about any of this. And as long as her eyes are on his, he seriously does not trust his judgement.

When he stays at a silent loss for too long, April seems to come back to herself a little and backs off for the second time, one of her eyes pinching shut in an embarrassed cringe. “Oof, I toa’lly made it weird, I’m sorry… ahh, I jus’, I got this, like- _really_ bad urge to kiss you and- mh!”

Swooping in to kiss a mid-sentence April seemed kinda romantic in Donnie’s head, but the real-life execution sure is _not_. Failing to tilt his head far enough was his first mistake, so her nose ends up jabbing into the side of his beak, and their mouths meet a little harder than he intended, their teeth banging together through their lips. This awkward, horrible thing could hardly be called a kiss at all since he reels away so fast, their lips smecking back apart in the same second they touch. 

“Sorry!! Oh god, that sucked, I’m sorry, I-I dunno what I’m doin’,” Donnie spews with apologies as he watches April raise her eyebrows and dazedly rub her nose, feeling hot and queasy and like the most laughably inexperienced idiot on the planet.

“Me neither,” April breathes, “Let's make out.”

And before he can say a word, April grabs either side of his face and pounces on him for another kiss — a firmer, much better-angled kiss. _Oh, damn, yeah this is much better,_ comes Donnie’s last coherent thought, his eyelids fluttering shut. 

With liquid courage surging through his veins, Donnie lets his hands drift up her arms and cracks his lips apart a smidgeon, gasping out a high-pitched sound when April’s tongue dives between them. In a bold, April-like move, she coaxes his wider mouth open until the tip of her tongue meets his, a firm hand splayed on the back of his head to keep him right where he is. A shiver of electricity zaps from his stomach out to the tips of his extremities at the feel of her tongue slowly exploring his mouth, the tang of cheap wine and Chex Mix filling his taste buds, and it takes everything Don has to keep from trembling on the spot. He can’t even attempt to smother the desperate-sounding moan in his throat. He’s just… never been kissed like this before. And by _April_ …

Their kissing stays slow and explorative, but steadily becomes much wetter. April seems to be making a point to keep things gentle, probably because she can feel his racing pulse and doesn’t want him to keel over mid-makeout. Her hands are just as inquisitive as her tongue, stroking him everywhere above the belt, skin and shell alike, unafraid to scope outall the places where they meet. Don’s brow ridges draw together further and further over his closed eyes, overcome with more feelings than he can keep up with. It feels like his heart has blasted off into space, and good freaking luck ever getting it to come back down. _Hohhh man -_ now that he knows what it feels like to kiss her this way, he’ll never be able to go back to before. 

Donnie moves on instinct, guiding her down to the couch with his lips and a gentle hand under her back. He feels a small shock of delayed surprise at his own forwardness, half expecting April to tell him to stop, or push him away, but she doesn’t. Just makes a soft cooing sound once her head meets the armrest and coils her arms around his neck. His heart thrashes around inside his chest, a manic tightness gathering in his throat. God, _damn,_ the amount of times he’d lain awake at night and imagined April underneath him, what it might feel like, what it might look like, and now... it’s something out of a dream, seeing her there, when he pulls away to catch his breath. Her eyes are closed, messy red hair framing her heart-shaped face, a content little smile twitching her swollen lips. _Wow, wow, wow_.

How he wishes he could weave their fingers together, all picture-perfect and romantic like in the movies, but he settles for gently closing his thick fingers around her entire hand. Balanced on one elbow, he leans down to kiss her some more, slowly and deeply, reveling in the feel of her mouth moving and responding to him, of her hot breath intermingling with his, of the feel of her body pressed up against him. He easily gets lost in it all, in her. He’s wanted this for _so_ long. He’d forgotten, almost, how badly he wanted this.

He moves to bury his beak in the crook of her neck, breathing her in before tenderly pressing his lips to her burning skin. “ _Hmm_ ,” April moans softly, the sound of it making him ache. 

“ _Oh god, April,_ ” Donnie pants, and kisses her there again, darting his tongue out this time, hoping for more sounds. He’s not disappointed.

“Mmm...” April says again, only encouraging him further. 

Each soft sound she makes starts to sound further and further away, her hand going a bit limp where it’s curled up in his. But Donnie misses those things, completely enthralled with the fact that _he is kissing April’s neck_ and she actually _likes_ _it_ and this is _sooo_ much better than any dream, who knew when he woke up this morning he was waking up to the best day of his life, oh gosh what does this mean, does this mean they’re going to be together, he’s not a religious guy but damn if he doesn’t hope to every deity in the universe that’s what it means.

But then April makes a different sound, one Donnie does _not_ miss. An icy feeling seizes his insides, and suddenly he’s afraid to move. 

No. That wasn’t...

“April,” he whispers, heart in his throat, and then he waits, praying for her to say something, _anything_ , his face still hidden her neck, but she doesn’t say a word and - there it is again. Another nasally, barely-there snore.

_No. Nonononono -_

Don shoots away from April, hovering over her on stiff arms, horrorstuck to confirm his suspicions and find her face slack with sleep. He springs off of her like a cat out of bathwater, scuttling backwards until his shell is pressed to the other end of the couch. He breathes in short, quick gasps, his stomach shriveling as what just happened starts to sink in.

Holy shit. None of that was real... none of it. And he just took advantage of his drunk best friend. 

This isn’t happening. This is _not happening._

Don can’t even blame it on the alcohol when his vision blurs with moisture, as he’s feeling pretty damn sober all of a sudden. Hunching over his knees, he grips the back of his head with huge, shaking hands as the line of his mouth wobbles, so far from calm. He knew. He knew she was - he _knew_ he shouldn’t’ve and he still - no no no _no_ -

The reality of the situation just keeps hitting him and hitting him, like gut punches on a merciless rotation. April and Casey had been broken up for barely a month. It was so obvious now, why April was knocking back drinks faster than she normally would have, why she was coming onto him out of the blue, the alarm bells had _been_ there, and… and all it took to break him down was ‘ _you’re so cute, I wanna kiss you’?_ Seriously man?! Donnie’s face goes to pieces, his mask scrunching up between his eyes. April was _drunk_ , April was obviously more hurt about Casey than she’d been letting on, April let her guard down around him because she trusted him, and she was used to Donnie being there for her when she felt lonely - of course she didn’t - of course it wasn’t because she - 

A few tears escape, dampening the purple fabric as he swallows back a sob. He hears April groan and shift next to him in her slumber, trying to get comfortable, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. How _could_ he? He’s supposed to be a genius, for Darwin’s sake, how could he not connect the dots? Was he really that willingly blind? He was so sure he had the whole ‘in love with his best friend’ thing under control, but clearly he’d been kidding himself about _that_... 

Donnie’s stomach twists with nausea at his next thought. 

_How far would you have let things go if she hadn’t fallen asleep on you, huh?_

His hands tighten around the back of his head. Oh god, he’s going to be sick.

Between school, training, and her internship, April passing out during a late night of hanging out is nothing new, and on any other night Donnie would have silently ninja'd his way back and forth between the kitchen and living room until all their snack remnants were cleaned up, then carried her to bed and tucked her in. But tonight, it’s all Donnie can do to make sure April is turned on her side and hastily fling a blanket over her, leaving an empty tupperware bowl and a glass of water within her reach before he flees the scene, out her bedroom window and into the night. It didn’t matter that they were all adults now, Leo would have his shell if he knew Donnie was out topside by himself, four (or five?) drinks in - really, that was more of a Raphael sort of move - but he couldn’t stay there. If she woke up, and he had to face her…

He wouldn’t be able to do it. 

And what if she didn’t remember what happened... what then? Should he tell her? Donnie dashes the idea of not telling her as soon as the thought bubbles up. There’s no way he could sleep at night if he tried to keep something like this from her. April would want to know.

One thing was for sure - their friendship was not going to be the same after this. 

The frantic mutant only makes it a few rooftops away before letting his staff clatter to the concrete as he slumps beneath a water tower, head in his hands, elbows resting on his knee pads. By now the shock and panic are starting to give way fully into pure misery. His eyes well up again and this time Donnie doesn’t try to stifle it. Soft sniffles escape him now and then as he drags in ragged breaths, just - _hating_ himself. Since the night they’d met, he’d made a personal promise to always, _always_ protect April, and keep her best interest in mind no matter what, even if it didn’t necessarily line up with his. He’d broken that promise tonight, and he couldn’t see how he’d ever be able to forgive himself for it. And if April never forgave him for it either, he wouldn’t blame her. 

And the worst part? Despite these gut wrenching feelings of shame and remorse, despite knowing what he did was wrong, and wishing he could take it all back… deep down, Donatello _still_ can’t completely sit on that longing, can’t help but wish all those kisses had been as real to her as they were to him, can’t help but feel heartbroken and mortified that the best thing that ever happened to him turned out to be nothing more than a stupid mistake. 

Donnie loosens his mask enough to let it fall around his neck, wiping his eyes and snorting in snot. He’s pathetic, and so painfully aware of it. April deserves better than him. Forget romantic partner, she deserves a better friend. He’d be lucky if she ever spoke to him again after this... the thought of losing her brings a fresh wave of tears to the turtle's eyes.

“M’so sorry,” Donnie’s cracked apology trickles out into the warm New York air, heard by no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh the DRAMA. Donatello tears, they taste so good
> 
> Lmao it was fun trying to write drunk April and tipsy Don, I hope I pulled it off. blahh I feel like I liked this fic way more yesterday than I do today. Idk. Let me know what you think, comments/kudos are my lifeblood, thanks so much for reading ya'll!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look sharp, April POV comin atcha fast

When April’s heavy eyelids creak open the next morning, she’s filled with immediate - and _painful_ \- regret. Oh. _Ow_. Well this sucks. Now she remembers why it’s a bad idea to go hard on 8 dollar wine from the corner market.

Her eyes sluggishly focus on a glass of water within her line of vision, and she swipes it up and chugs it greedily, a few drops dribbling from the side of her mouth. It’s then that April notices the blanket draped over her legs - the fluffy one that usually lives on the end of her bed - and the large tupperware bowl on the floor beside the couch, one that had to have been dug out from deep in her kitchen cabinet. Obviously Donnie had - 

April’s sore blue eyes pop wide open with the mental record scratch, bloodshot and stinging. 

Oh. Oh god. _Donnie_. Last night, he was -- _they_ were-!!

Just like that, flashbacks of drunkenly throwing herself at her best friend start barging into April’s poor, unprepared brain, prompting the girl to slowly drag up the neck of her t-shirt until nothing but a mess of tangled red hair is showing, futilely trying to hide from the memories. “No, no, _nooo_ ,” she moans, her body curling into a smelly, hungover ball of shame. Why, why is she like this?? 

It’s fuzzy, like she’s watching someone else’s cringey life through a screen. But she can definitely remember, there had been this _moment_ … Don had been mid-laugh-snort at his own lame joke, and all she could do was gawk at his goofily-grinning profile, mesmerized. He was being extra adorable somehow, and she was feeling all warm and carefree, and maybe a little reckless, and… that had been the turning point. When drunk-April had decided to hell with sober-April’s endless logic and reasoning, she was _done_ with this whole _waiting for the right moment_ business, she just _haaad_ to kiss Donnie - and was balls-to-the-wall determined to make it happen. 

Augh, the _way_ she’d straight up asked him to make out with her! _Cringe much, April??_ What is she, thirteen? And then, the actual making out - April’s face burns hotter with each recollection, her limbs drawing tighter into her shame ball - oh, _so_ not pretty, so not pretty at all. Classy kissing, that was not. More like her attempting to eat Donnie’s face like it was a goddamn sloppy joe.

She doesn’t know whether to be relieved or die of embarrassment that Donnie had not been turned off by her amateur hour, excessive-tongue-wagging approach. Ho-ho, quite the opposite, that boy had been just as into it as she was, April can sure remember that much. She can distinctly recall the sound he made right off the bat, when she deepened the kiss… it was that hoarse moan specifically that, even while drunk, completely obliterated the last of her worries about Donnie possibly not having feelings for her anymore. 

Yeah, no. You don’t make sounds like _that_ if you’re not invested. April’s hands fly up to cup her tomato-red face through her shirt, her heart thudding in her chest. _Oh my god oh my god oh my goddddd._

She can’t stop thinking the words. Her and Donnie made out. _Her and Donnie_ made out! This is just… so surreal. After years and years of doggedly keeping to the just-friends path, _this_ is how she and her best-friend-who-happened-to-be-a-mutant-turtle ended up skidding off course, openly acknowledging the spark that’s always been there… far from sober, in the slobberiest, most graceless way possible. 

_Great job April! Totally… great._

Oh man, this wasn’t like the one other time she’d kissed Don on the lips. That had been ages ago, the tiniest of pecks, and it was the kind of small, driveby incident you could blame on circumstances, or the heat of the moment or whatever, and then continue on without actually having to change your ways. Which she had, despite feeling horribly guilty about it at the time. Neither she nor Donnie ever brought up the farmhouse kiss again, and they’d been fine. Last night, though… _that_ was the sort of thing that could fester and destroy them, if they didn’t talk about it. Not talking about it was not an option. 

They were definitely going to have to talk about it. And soon. Her stomach does about 6 backflips at the thought of _that_ conversation.

April peeks back out of the top of her shirt, vainly trying to calm her racing heart. She may remember plenty of highlights from the previous evening, but there are still some missing pieces. The last thing she remembers is kissing him (and kissing him, and kissing him)... and then, waking up feeling like shit. How had their little couch-fest ended? If she was waking up alone, with no memory of him leaving... 

Wait - he did leave, right? April reflexively rips the blanket off, confirming all her clothes are still right where she left them (yeah, there was no way, but she couldn’t help but check).

“Donnie…?” She calls out hesitantly into the stillness of her apartment. No answer. 

It would’ve been a stretch for him to stay. Donnie sleeping over at her place wasn’t a thing. But when did he leave? Did he say goodbye? They’re still okay, right?

Hauling herself into a sitting position, April lets her heavy head fall into her hand, exhaling a small, pathetic whine of regret. Dammit, this isn’t how things were supposed to go. She was _supposed_ to wait an appropriate amount of time post break up, so he wouldn’t get any wrong ideas about being a rebound. 3 months was what she had been originally aiming for. 3 months _minimum_ , so that one, her close-knit group of friends wouldn’t judge her and Casey’s ego wouldn’t be hurt too badly; two, so she could use that time to make _absolutely sure_ that this was the right decision, not to mention something Donnie still wanted; and three, because she just… she needed more time to figure out how she was going to do this. Do it in a way that wasn’t going to ruin anything for anyone. 

In her head, all she had so far was getting him alone, someplace quiet and familiar... then she’d probably take him by the hands, look right into those big, cinnamon-brown eyes and say, _Donnie, you should know, the real reason Casey and I didn’t work out is…_

Er - something better worded. Maybe not mention Casey at all. April hadn’t figured it out yet, that was why she needed more time!

The whole ‘dating Casey Jones for almost a year’ part of this… it was complicated. Or maybe, not that complicated. The vigilante hockey player had always been one of her best friends, too. He was an incurable thrill-seeker like her, could be so weirdly charming, was conveniently already part of their secret mutant family, and had always expressed some level of casual interest in her. And at the time, April had just started the trek out into her enigmatic twenties, that annoying age where you start to feel like there must be something wrong with you, if you’ve never been in a relationship before. 

Once she had successfully convinced herself it was what she wanted, getting into a relationship with Casey had been easy. All she’d had to do was say “you still down for that date, Jones” after a few shots of tequila during some Lower East Side bar hopping, and bam, the ball was rolling. 

_Staying_ in a relationship with Casey… less easy. It had been cake to connect with him physically ( _that_ aspect of things was admittedly a lot of fun, especially in the beginning). Less so, emotionally. Aaaand intellectually. Which both turned out to be pretty important ‘successful long term boyfriend’ criteria for April. There was just no getting through to Casey sometimes (most times), and it had frustrated her to no end. They had clashed over so many stupid little things, when they’d tried to zipper up their two very different ways of living into one neat, functional, dating… thing.

Oh, and there was also that little matter of April having feelings for another guy… in hindsight, _the entire time_ her and Casey had been together.

Apparently the redhead had unwittingly brought a certain mutant ninja into her and Casey’s relationship one too many times, whether she was blowing off Casey topside to spend time in the lab (she studied _better_ there, how was that her fault?), or talking about him too much, or texting him too often, or allegedly saying Don’s name at times she shouldn’t’ve been ( _One_ time! And she didn’t even say it, it was just an unfortunate exhale that sounded, _vaguely_ at best, like ‘Dee’) . She’s able to recall the exact feeling of her heart plunging like an anvil down into her gut, when Casey finally called her out on her bullshit.

_“I’m done playin’ stand-in, Red! Why’re you even dating me, huh? Like, you obviously wish I was someone else…”_

Put on the spot, April had been speechless. Unable to confirm or deny it, her muscles frozen into a posture that screamed defensive fury. But her silence was enough of an answer for Casey, who’d just rubbed his stubbly face and sighed heavily. Right before he ended it. 

It had felt like a slap in the face. Not the being dumped part; that part was surprisingly easy to swallow, which probably said it all. But... no one had ever forced her to confront the way she felt about Donnie, before. Ever. And once that Pandora’s Box had been smashed open, there was no turning back.

She’d always… kind of known? You can’t love someone like Donnie and _not_ know, on some level. But you can bury it, and over the years April had become a pro at convincing herself there were a lot of valid reasons to do so. Being in a real-life, in-it-for-the-long-haul romantic relationship with Donnie… it was never _not_ going to be complicated. Or without some significant sacrifice on her end.

But, as hard as being in relationship with him had the potential to be, compared to a normal human guy... it was just so _easy_ to be with Donnie. To be her full self around him, as impressive or as ugly as that might be, depending on the day. Donnie was just... incredible. Kind, brave, unflinchingly loyal, with that dry sense of humor and talent for cheek that easily matched hers... a bona fide _genius_ … handsome, even, in his own unique way, she’s slowly come to recognize. She swiftly relives the way she’d pretty much jumped him last night, a fresh heatwave prickling her skin; yeahhh, clearly the more, erm, _superficial_ aspect of things - something that had seemed like such a big deal to her as a teenager - wasn’t so much of an issue anymore. 

The older April gets, the clearer it becomes (to the point where she feels like kind of a bonehead for refusing to consider the option for so long): how special Donatello’s presence in her life is, how lucky she is to know him, to be cared about and respected by someone like him to the extreme level he does. She’s never going to find anyone who comes close, in terms of the way Donnie makes her feel, and she _knows_ it. And it’s been getting easier and easier for April to picture herself _with_ him. 

And all that that implied. 

Like... forever. 

(There was another reason she’d tried so hard to gag these feelings, they were terrifying as hell!)

Yeah, so, she’d had Donnie on the brain lately. The desire to find excuses to be near him had been damn near overpowering. Her original intent behind inviting him over had been harmless... all she’d wanted to do was spend some quality time with him watching movies and playing cards! _Maybe_ snuggle a little, if she could pull it off naturally. But then the tipsier, friskier version of herself had deemed it a stellar idea to act on some very, very long pent-up urges. _Thanks_ so _much, drunk-April._

She pulls up Donnie in her T-phone in seconds, since he was her most recent incoming call. April stares down at the contact photo of the turtle, dorky, gap-toothed smile frozen in place on the screen, and feels her heart start to pound again. They kissed last night. They kissed a lot. Things really were going to be different, now.

Not that she doesn’t _want_ things to be different... she does. She pretty much thought about it nonstop, these days. It’s just… making that leap into the unknown was scary, especially with their friendship being so locked-in and perfect as it is. It took her a stupid amount of time to admit the depth of her feelings for Donnie in the first place. Pretending they weren’t there had become second nature to her. Heck, if not for Casey, she’d probably _still_ be fighting it. 

She was tired of fighting, though. While her methods were sloppy and her timing less than ideal, drunk-April had definitely been onto something. It felt so _good_ to give into the urge to kiss him, and touch him, and just… hold him... and, she thinks with a blush, she would very much like to do all of that again, very soon. _Sober_ , this time.

She swallows. The biggest reason she’d wanted to wait a few months was because she was afraid Donnie wouldn’t trust it if she didn’t. The idea of him thinking he’s just a rebound to her makes April feel sick to her stomach... but it was a definite possibility. Donnie is a textbook over-thinker. What could be going through his head right now?

Her finger hovers over the call button under Donnie’s picture. She glances at the time; it’s a little after 11. He and his brothers were probably just sitting down to their usual late Sunday breakfast ritual. Mikey always makes pancakes on Sundays.

She doesn’t want to interrupt brother time, she tells herself. Closing out of the contacts app, April cradles the T-Phone against her chest, waiting for her heartbeat to slow down. Oh god, she’s supposed to see him _today_ , this afternoon, for training...

_Or_ , April thinks as her stomach churns angrily, _maybe not_. Another reason for her to avoid cheap Malbec in the future? Being psychic made her head sensitive and prone to migraines at the best of times, with no alcohol involved, and hangovers for her were _killer_ , she is currently being reminded for the umpteenth time. She throws an arm across her face, trying to block out the light. With the shape her head is in, there’s no way she's going to make it to training in the sewers today. Not unless they wanted her upchucking all over one of those lovely oriental rugs in the dojo.

She’d just have to see Donnie tomorrow, instead.

After shooting a quick text to Leo about feeling sick and not being able to make practice, removing her contacts, and getting some water and painkillers into her system, April crawls pathetically into her bed, no plans to move for a looong time.

Thoughts of a certain tall, nerdy mutant turtle plague her head, not allowing her to fall asleep right away. She resolves to call him when she wakes up, reassure him that everything’s fine. Then tomorrow she’ll go down to the lair, and they will talk about _all_ of this, and be so much stronger for it. Donnie’s a patient guy, at least when it comes to herself. And so non-judgemental, realistic, understanding.... she has to have hope that he’ll understand, about everything. About her reasons for dating Casey Jones for a year, despite never actually being _in_ love with the guy... and her reasons for keeping any and all feelings for the turtle mutant to herself for - what, like, 4-ish more years than that? And about her going ham on his lips last night with zero warning, in spite of the terrible timing and the terrible circumstances...

_Man, I suckkkkk,_ April moans inwardly, burrowing her face into her pillow and closing her eyes.

-

When the coast is clear, April slips unseen into a manhole between classes the next day, trying to hype herself up for a conversation she’ll probably never, ever feel completely prepared to have. She pulls her dad’s old jacket tighter around herself as she makes her way through the sewers, on a path she knows by heart. Her nerves are a little frayed, and her hands have felt inexplicably tingly all day. 

This was going to be… ack. Weird. But hopefully worth it. Picturing what Donnie’s face might look like when she tells him she loves him has definitely been helping.

“Hey guys,” April pipes as she hops over the turnstiles, a plastic shopping bag laden down with snacks in one hand. She spots Leo and Mikey sitting directly in front of the tv in that healthy way they tend to do, absorbed in some first person shooter game, while Raph is lounging on the couch with one of his not-so-modern Modern Ninja magazines. 

All 3 turtles chime with some variation of “Hey April,” as she cruises down into the pit. By force of habit, April digs a king size KitKat bar from the plastic bag and pockets it for Donnie, before letting the bag slump next to Mikey, who hasn’t yet looked away from the TV.

“I brought snacks.”

_That_ gets Mike’s attention - he turns away from the game with an _“mmmboi”_ of interest, which is all the time Leo needs to annihilate his character on the screen in an epic display of fire power.

“ _Hey_!”

“And that my friends, is how the master gets it done!” Leo drops the controller with a flourish, dabbing towards the ceiling.

“Yeah, by cheating!”

“Oh, hardly.” Leo withdraws a packet of cookies from the bag, nodding over at the redhead. “Thanks, April. Missed you at training yesterday,” Sensei-Leo tacks on, clearly unable to help himself. 

“Yeah, feeling a lot better today...” April says distractedly. “Dee in his lab?” It’s a totally unnecessary question, as she can hear the rumblings of rock music coming from that direction, and she is totally not stalling.

“Yyyep,” mutters Raph, turning a page of his magazine.

“Yeah, careful in there, April. We’ve been seein’ some major signs of _Zonnie_ the past couple days.”

“Zonnie?” Raph and April echo in unison.

“Y’know, Zonnie. Zombie, Donnie,” Mikey gestures out the words with his hands. “Who never shows up to dinner or leaves his nerd cave? And he’s got that ‘blaghh braaains’ look goin’ on all the time.”

April blanches at the freckled turtle’s description. _Not good. Definitely not good._ Looking worriedly towards the floor-to-ceiling metal door, she hikes her backpack up on her back. “Um… I’ll go check on him.”

The sounds of Led Zeppelin blast into focus as she slides the lab door open, April instantly recognizing the song from Donnie’s tried-and-true productivity playlist. Her heart leaps as she spots the purple-banded ninja right where she expected him to be - sitting at the very edge of his rolling chair and hunched over a table with his shell to her, surrounded by a scattering of tools and what she recognizes as the head of his latest robotic creation. A single cord leads from the partially-complete head to his laptop nearby, which is open to lines and lines of code. 

The sheer familiarity of the scene is enough to spark a ray of courage in April. _It’s just Donnie,_ she reminds herself through a calming breath. _It’s just Donnie, and you’re both adults here. Who cares if the last time you saw him you were trying to suck his face off and you can’t remember how it ended. It’s fine! Just - power through the awkward and be honest about your feelings for once. Do it for Donnie._

April steels herself, re-floofing her bangs with her fingers and pursing her lips in determination, then begins to make her way over to the tall turtle, her personal light at the end of the tunnel.

The psychic redhead is only a few steps in before the waves of frustration, anxiety and misery rippling out from Don’s aura start to pummel her, which puts a major damper on whatever courage her mental pep talk provided. Either he’s ignoring her, or he hasn’t noticed her come in yet, and both options give her reason to be worried. As she draws closer, underneath the music she can hear him hissing and grumbling to himself as he works, the way he does when he’s unable to achieve his usual impeccable level of concentration, and frustrated beyond belief about it.

“Ridiculous… you’re losin’ it man… oh _son_ of a - what is wrong with you??”

April is clobbered with an overwhelming feeling of regret for ditching afternoon training, and then not trying harder to contact him yesterday, leaving Donnie to fester in whatever horrible assumptions he’s more than likely been making about this whole situation.

_Sewer apples, he is so not okay. How, praytell, do you continue to fuck this up so completely, O’Neil?!_

The turtle whips around before April can muster up a hello, the awareness that’s been trained into him finally kicking in. She stops in her tracks, suddenly face to face with the person she’s been non stop thinking about and agonizing over for the past 2 days. Her heart plummets as she stares back and forth between red-brown, noticeably bloodshot eyes, his face a picture of exhaustion and discomfort.Gult stabs through her, because it feels like such an invasion of his privacy, being able to _feel_ how miserable he is, despite her not being able to help it.

“A-April - hi.” 

It’s difficult for April not to wince at Donnie’s fumbled delivery, reminded all too well of a much younger version of her friend. Well, so much for the hope of things not being terribly, _terribly_ awkward between them…

Argh, this is so stupid! They’re bigger than this, aren’t they?

“Hey,” she says, her voice raising over the music. She’s unable to help herself from twitching an eyebrow and adding a touch sarcastically, “Uh, sleep much, lately?”

She’s desperate for things to be normal, and it’s something she would have normally said, and normally Donnie would’ve ping-ponged the sass right back at her - but the turtle only seems to wilt before her, his eyes flitting away, seemingly unable to look at her for more than 3 seconds in a row. _Swing and a miss._ April tries to distract herself from the ensuing sting by walking over and setting her bag down on the table like nothing is wrong, leaning against it with her hands propped behind her. Extra casual.

Don hits a button on his phone, and the music blasting out of his jury-rigged bluetooth speaker falls silent. April sort of wishes he hadn’t done that. Now it’s way too quiet.

“So,” Donnie clears his throat, tapping out some halfhearted keystrokes on his laptop, “...how’re you feeling?”

April frowns a little bit at the question, before coming to the obvious conclusion that Leo had conveyed her message of feeling sick to the rest of the guys.

“Oh - fine. It was just a little hangover.”

“Ah. Right.” Don’s hands still hover stiffly over his keyboard, but he’s not typing a thing. 

_Ho-kay. Small talk. Not going to work out, got it._

April folds her arms, crosses one denim leg over the other, grits her teeth for a second - and then rips off the proverbial band aid. “… Soo. We should probably talk about the other night.”

Don stares hard at his laptop screen a moment more before closing it with an aquiescent sigh. “Yeah,” he mumbles, blinking down at the table and looking every bit like a dead man walking, “we probably should.”

The redhead taps the heel of her boot against the cracked concrete floor, already feeling her cheeks growing warm as she tries to figure out where to start. There’s just... so much she needs to tell him, _finally_. An intimidating amount of things, some of which she’s not super proud of, others that make her feel like she’s free falling off a building at just the _thought_ of saying it out loud.

“Um... so there are some things,” she pauses to gulp down some excess spit, “that I’ve been wanting to say for a while now, but, I guess I should start by saying… I’m sorry, about the other night.”

“ _You’re_ sorry...?” 

“Uh, _yeah_ \- I acted like such a… _ugh_ ,” April makes an _ick_ face, sticking out her tongue, pressing fingers to her pinched brow. “Like a horny teenager who's never had a drink before… and I know it must have freaked you out, and you deserve so much better than that, Donnie - I should’ve just - _talked_ to you instead of getting wasted and… what?”

Here she is, trying to put all her squishy feelings out on the table for him to see, and Donnie is just sitting there gaping, no, full-on _frowning_ at her.

“What?” April repeats when he doesn’t answer right away, a little less patience in her voice the second time. “Why do you look so ticked off right now.”

The turtle’s frown deepens, upper lip curling up enough to reveal his tooth gap. “Because I deserve squat. And _you’re_ not the one who should be apologizing,” he says like it’s the most elementary thing in the world.

_Oh jeez, here we go..._ April tries not to roll her eyes at blame-himself-for-everything-always Donatello showing up to this conversation, right on schedule. She knew she was going to have to talk him down from some kind of ledge, but apparently they were just gettin’ right down to business, huh.

“Dee, lemme say this up front - we’re fine in my book. I’m not mad at you, and I didn’t come here to yell at you.”

If anything Don seems the opposite of comforted by her words. “April...” he begins in his most resigned, ‘ _be reasonable, April’_ voice. “You don’t have to do that, if you don’t want to.”

Her blue eyes narrow skeptically. “Don’t have to do what?”

“Forgive me, for... what I did.”

“What you did? You didn’t _do_ anything, Donnie.” April shakes her head, jabbing fingers to her chest. “ _I_ was the one who came onto you, remember? Why are you making this out to be your fault?”

“Because, it is.”

“ _How?”_ April shoots back, annoyed. “Neither of us were sober, I initiated everything - tell me how that makes it all your fault, again?”

Donnie sighs heavily, his head drooping into his shell as he admits, “I...I wasn’t that drunk, April.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean-”

“-And you might not remember what happened, but I _do,_ I -”

Donnie cuts himself off abruptly, looking just… _devastated_. April finds that she doesn’t have a comeback for that one, all of her arguments drying up at that stricken look on his face. A cold, tight feeling snatches her insides as she’s forced to concede on the spot that yes, there _were_ some missing parts of the night, and maybe there _are_ some things she doesn’t know. 

_What is he talking about? Why is he making that face?_

“What happened,” April manages to get out, and for a moment her and Donnie are at a standstill, locked in the most horrible staring contest ever. 

Then he lets out a shuddering breath, turning away to lean a padded elbow on the table and rest his forehead in his palm, the corners of his mouth lurching downwards. 

“Donnie. _What happened._ ”

“I-I… you passed out at some point, and… I didn’t even _notice_ right away, I -- god, I-I was still on _top_ of you, I was still,” he shudders, shaking his head and looking utterly disgusted with himself, and April holds her breath as she waits for him to finish that sentence, “k-kissing you, and... it wasn’t until I heard you snore and saw your face...”

April pretty much stops listening to Don’s awkward recollection of the night once she realizes he’s not going to say anything worse than that, the breath she’d been holding deflating out of her. _Seriously?_ _That’s it?_ Is all her brain can think, followed closely by _of course that’s it. It’s Donnie!_

The Kunoichi rubs a hand over her mouth, taking it all in. So, there it was. The missing piece. She’d laid on the April-charm thick, then turned around and fell asleep on the poor guy. Thaaaat is embarrassing… and it must have been nothing but humiliating and alarming for Donnie, the same person who swings into action on her behalf if she so much as stubs a toe. No wonder he’s so freaked out! Jeez, it all sounded like something out of a bad movie, or a funny in hindsight thing. Maybe in a few years they’ll be able to laugh at this one?

But Donnie is definitely not laughing when he looks up at her mournfully, a glossy sheen over his huge, pleading brown eyes.

“April… I am _so_ , sorry,” he whispers, his voice catching in the middle of his apology. 

April’s heart promptly breaks.

_Oh, no._

“Donnie... Donnie, it’s okay.”

“But it’s not okay,” the turtle croaks, shaking his head in disbelief, like he can’t believe she would say such a thing. “How - how are you even talking to me right now?”

“It was an accident,” April scrambles to soothe his guilty conscience. “It’s not like I meant to fall asleep, or you meant to…”

“But I _did_ mean to,” Donnie mumbles hopelessly.

“You just said it yourself, you stopped as soon as you realized! Come on, it’s not - people do stupid stuff when they’re drunk all the time, this doesn’t have to be a huge deal...”

The scandalized expression she’s met with makes April regret the words as soon as they leave her mouth - downplaying this is clearly not the way to go. _Crap, crap, crap._

“I shouldn't have kissed you in the first place! That wasn’t _consent_ , that was...” he groans, unable to finish his sentence. “You obviously needed a friend at the time, and all _I_ did was creep all over you!”

“ _Needed a friend?_ ” April scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He glares with that infuriating do-I-have-to-spell-it-out-for-you look. “Because of you and Casey…?”

“What? What's Casey have to do with this!”

“Everything!” Donnie splutters, his hands flinging out from his sides.

April rubs her fingertips over her eyebrows in frustration. This is going very, very poorly. He’s not _listening_ to her, or reacting at all how she needs him to, and the hothead in her wants to just lash out and set him straight, because it’s _actually_ _incredible_ , how wrong he has it.

“It’s _not_ \- _ugh_ , why would you think this is about Casey!” Another pang of insta-regret at that one, wow, she is _nailing_ this - 

“I don’t know, maybe because you dated him for a whole year? And now you’re going through a break up, and - and I dunno, maybe you were feeling lonely, or hurt, I mean why else would you be binge drinking and trying to hook up with...!” Donnie frantically gestures one green, 3-fingered hand up and down his own body, and okay, _now she’s mad._ How dare he make assumptions like that about what she’s feeling, how dare he think so little of himself!

“ _Umm_ , maybe because _I wanted to?_ You really think I’d have to be out of my mind to wanna kiss you?!”

Donnie ignores the question, his eyes back on the floor, arms crossed protectively over his plastron. “You don’t have to try and spare me from the truth. The fact of the matter is, I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable, a-and it’s not going to help anyone if we try and pretend it didn’t happen.”

April unleashes an irritated growl towards the ceiling, about ready to pull out her hair. “Oh my god, you didn’t ‘take _advantage_ of me,’ I knew exactly what I was doing!”

“ _April_ , you were so drunk you _passed out_ while we were-!” Donnie smashes headlong into another one of those verbal walls he keeps uncharacteristically hitting, attempting to finish his sentence instead with a skewed mouth and incredulous, slightly crazed bug-eyes.

“I was tired! I was up ‘til three the night before doing work!” 

Donnie shakes his head and averts his eyes, obviously not buying her pathetic excuse, leaving April feeling angry and scared that for some reason, her best friend can’t seem to believe a single word out of her mouth. It has her so rattled and thrown off that she can’t help but keep trying to get through to him with brute force. “Dammit, Don, I wasn’t deranged with loneliness or whatever you’re thinking, me and Casey are _fine_ , I’m telling you, that had nothing to do with-” 

“-And I’m telling _you_ , you don’t have to skirt around the fact that what I did was slimy!”

April's jaw twitches where it hangs open an inch, momentarily at a loss, the walls rapidly closing in on her. Fuck, she is quickly losing ground in this argument and he still doesn’t even know the truth - _just say it already, April!!_

“Donnie, I kissed you because I wanted to,” she tries to get out in a rush, “I really do-”

“Don’t-!” April’s mouth snaps shut, her eyes going round with shock, never having been shut down like that by Donnie before. She stares at the turtle, who has a hand clamped to his forehead and his eyes shut behind his mask, a tight, pained look screwing up his features. “I-I’m sorry, I’m - I’m just - trying to _tell_ you, you don’t have to _do_ that, April. I don’t… want you to do that.”

And April does stop, her hands falling to her sides, all of her built-up fears about having this conversation officially coming to fruition. Woah... she really did mess things up. His insecurities about her run deeper than she ever could have anticipated, but... maybe should have? God, he doesn’t even believe she could want to kiss him sober. What the hell made her think he’d believe a full on love confession?

Her heart deflates with the dejection, her throat working a little. She forces herself to swallow down all the retorts still frothing around inside her.

_Well. What now?_

“Okay,” she surrenders in a small, apologetic voice, crossing her arms and bowing her head. “...fine.”

Donnie lets out a long breath, his expression dulling back into his original medley of resignation and shame. She can pick up glimpses of all the horrible, self-deprecating things he’s feeling right now, despite how hard she’s trying to shut them out. April bites her lip, scrambling to rethink her approach, desperate to rid his face of that look.

“Can you at least believe me when I say I forgive you?” 

Donnie sighs wearily, turning away. “April…”

She grabs the back of his chair, spinning it around so that he’s facing her again. “No, no ‘ _April’_ s. You told me what happened. There’s nothing else, right?”

“...No.”

“All right then. So... now I know everything. And, you apologized for it… and I choose to forgive you. Okay?” He doesn’t respond. She tilts her head to the side until he’s forced to meet her gaze, his eyes a little glassy, her own blue ones firm and resolute. “ _Okay_ , Donnie?”

“Okay,” he mumbles, his eyelids fluttering with a series of rapid blinks.

“And... I’m really sorry, too,” April says in a softer voice. Don shakes his head almost imperceptibly, like he doesn’t wanna hear it; April chooses to ignore that. ”...Do you forgive me?”

He nods, his throat working.

“Thank you.” She holds her arms out. “… can we hug it out now? Please?”

After a pause Donnie sighs and quickly swipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand, then nods again, rising out of his chair, and April releases a breath of relief. He’s messed up over this, and she feels like such an asshole for being so blindsided by it... for not explaining herself better. But at least he’s still the same turtle who could never deny her a hug. 

When she realizes he’s not going to initiate anything himself, April crushes the gap between them, stepping forward and rising up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around him. Donatello follows suit, hunching down to her level to do the same. His body is tense, and his hold on her is loose and a bit uncertain, which is not very Donnie-like at all, only making that empty chasm in her gut gape wider. April stubbornly strengthens her own grip and turns her face into his neck, refusing to let up in the slightest. After a few more long seconds, she feels his sturdy arms slide all the way around her back to embrace her properly, his grip on her shoulder and waist going from weak to clutching, his shaky exhale heartbreakingly deafening in her ear as he presses his rounded nose into her shirt.

_I’m so sorry, D,_ she thinks, feeling him tremble in her arms for a heartbeat. _I’ll fix this, I promise._

April refrains from voicing this aloud, despite how much her heart is crying out for her to do so. It wouldn’t help right now. Donnie is so unyieldingly strong in so many ways, but evidently still fragile when it comes to this, and she needs to be careful. She just hugs him tighter instead, resting her head against his.

“I don’t get it,” he speaks up softly.

“Don’t get what?”

“How you can forgive me so easily,” he mutters. “How are you not angry with me? How are you so…”

“Come on, it’s not like you to ask dumb questions.” It’s so easy for April to picture the slightly-defensive frown he’s probably wearing, she almost laughs, continuing before he can say anything. “Uh, hello, you’re my best friend and I care about you?” She gives his shell a friendly rub, gladly letting the edges and divots to scrape against her fingers. “And you didn’t murder anyone, we just - had a little too much to drink, and kissed... seriously, one weird night isn’t gonna drive me away, Dee. Get real.”

“Man, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I won’t question it.” Donnie’s arms give her a grateful squeeze. “...Thanks.”

She doesn’t deserve to be thanked right now, but it feels so good to be in his arms again, she’s not about to say anything and ruin the moment.

They make the mistake of pulling back at the same time, leaving their faces dangerously close, and the _last_ time they were this close, well... April fails to stop her gaze from sliding down to her friend's smooth, reptilian lips. Of _course_ it's then that a distinct memory of drunkenly trying to stick her tongue down Donnie’s throat socks her right in the hippocampus, her heart jumping from calm to racing. She struggles to keep her expression neutral, knowing her face must be crimson right now, and Donnie isn’t faring much better across from her, his mottled cheeks darkening with his own blush. The tension between them is just… _wow_. There sure are a lot of things they have yet to address.

They step back from each other hastily, Donnie rubbing the back of his neck, April smoothing a nervous hand over her ponytail, their eyes everywhere but each other’s.

The young redhead chews her lip, willing the blush away and trying not to be too discouraged by the awkwardness currently keeping her and Donnie’s friendship hostage. Or by the fact that her plan to comfort and confess to him crashed and burned as hard as a Kraang stealth ship piloted by Michelangelo. 

“...So, we’re good, right?” 

Donatello quirks a shy smile in her direction. “I’m good as long as you are.” 

April returns the smile as sincerely as she can. “I really am.” 

“I’m… I’m glad.” He nods slowly, and there’s another beat of palpable tension before Donnie clears his throat, still red-faced. “Uh. I should.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, the other hand propped oh-so-casually on the bridge of his shell.

“Okay. I should be heading out soon anyway… got class, and...” _Oh my god, stop being so weird!!_ She blows the red bangs out of her eyes and slings her bag over her shoulder. “...yeah. Still on for family dinner tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be there,” Donnie assures her, easing back into his chair and rolling up to his laptop. “I believe Mikey’s planning on making whatever the Mikey version of lasagna is, just a heads up.”

“I’ll try to prepare myself,” April laughs, appreciating the returning feeling of normalcy more than she can say. “Oh, hang on.” Remembering it at the last second, she pulls the KitKat from her jacket pocket and slides it over on the table, within Don’s field of vision. “For you,” she gives his shoulder an affectionate tap with the backs of her fingers.

Don blinks down at the candy, blinks up at her, and April feels an off-kilter jolt in her chest as his mouth broadens into a warm, genuine smile. “Thanks, April.”

“Sure.” Wanting to stay, but with nothing else to do or say, the girl reluctantly turns to start walking away, her fingers tight around the straps of her backpack. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“See ya,” comes Donnie’s wistful-sounding response from behind her, echoing through the cavernous room in a way that makes her heart hurt a little.

The disappointment starts to truly set in once April slides the lab door shut, back on the Donnie-less side of it, her shoulders sagging. She lingers there, facing the door, feeling acutely aware of much more than a thick sheet of metal standing between her and Donnie.

That did _not_ go the way she’d hoped. She was at least able to successfully talk him down from the worst of it, but she knows that boy too well. He’s obviously still convinced that he fucked up badly, and her forgiveness was just her cutting him a break he doesn’t deserve. He thinks that her kissing him was just a fluke, the byproduct of too much alcohol, him not having enough self control and her being hung up on Casey ( _agh, so extremely untrue, Don!!_ ). Couldn’t _possibly_ be because she’s got an enormous, L-word level crush on him… that big dumb genius. 

April sighs, angry with herself. It’s not Donnie’s fault that he doesn’t see himself as someone she could want. It has been 6 years. And thus far she hasn’t really given him a real reason to believe her, not while sober, anyway. 

She has to prove it to him, somehow. Tell him how she feels in a way that will make it impossible for him to doubt her, and hope it’s not too late. 

It strikes her that it’s way too quiet in here, and April spins around in place to find herself being stared at by 3 wide-eyed turtle mutants, blue, orange and red masks arched high over each of their brow ridges. Leo and Raph hastily return their attention to their respective living room activities, looking supremely awkward. But Mikey just keeps on starin’, stuffing cheese puffs in his face as he does, as if he’s watching the drama that has suddenly become her life unfold like a movie.

“Dude,” he says gravely.

April’s face reddens as her expression flattens, her hands flumping to her sides. “Ohh great,” she mutters through her teeth.

Mikey raises his hand as the redhead trudges down the lab steps, spring-green fingers caked with cheese dust.

“What, Mikey.”

“Uhhh, are we supposed to pretend we didn’t hear any of that, or… what.”

“The first thing,” April snaps, plopping down onto the couch with her arms folded, silently daring any of them to ask.

“Oookeydoke...”

She’s a little surprised when Mikey returns to his game, cheese dust fingers and all, and none of them actually ask about whatever they overheard. Their middle brother’s sudden romantic entanglements must be slightly out of the ninjas’ comfort zones. April is feeling pretty far out of her comfort zone herself, not gonna lie.

The situation she’s found herself in with Donnie calls for more drastic measures… but what’s the best way to get through to him? She doesn’t want to screw it up again. 

April taps her foot restlessly, lost in thought. Her eyes follow the tip of her fidgeting combat boot to the large, circular sewer grate in the middle of the pit … and she gets hit with an idea that has more heat rising to her cheeks.

“...Hey, guys?” April ventures, waiting until all 3 of the brothers are looking over at her cautiously. “Think you could do me a favor without asking too many questions?”

She’s got some planning to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this little story grew bigger than expected... I feel like I forcefully churned this out of my head like some too thicc frozen brain yogurt out of a soft serve machine, but this needed a happy ending. I was originally gonna leave it at the first chap, then didn't wanna be a dick to a fictional turtle and leave him hangin like that... hence a boatload of April thoughts and arguing lmao. When I write dialogue I just kinda start with one sentence and let it flow, and the characters wouldn't shut the hell up in this one. Dammit, guys. Stop being so dramatic and go be gross and in love already
> 
> (I really think something like this happening would fuck Don up a little tho. Also, damn I love writing empath-who-is-slightly-emotionally-stunted-herself hothead April. April is tops)
> 
> One more little chap after this ought to wrap this puppy up! If you're into this, a comment would mean the world to me. Peeps who already have written me, I Actually Love U. Thanks for reading and keep it real out there ya'll <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ready your toothbrushes, things are about to get sugary

Donatello slumps in his seat in the back of the Shellraiser, digging his thumb and middle finger into his eyes, trying to block out what had to be Mikey and Raph’s third inane argument in the last 20 minutes. Man, It’s like they’re _trying_ to piss him off at this point.

He’s… certainly seen better days.

Donnie and his brothers had just spent the last few hours sittin’ pretty in the shadow of a smoke stack, on the most pointless stakeout ever. Leo kept insisting there was going to be major Purple Dragon activity at Auman Chemicals tonight, banking on a tip from the Mutanimals; in regards to what _kind_ of activity that would be, specifically, their fearless leader was being aggravatingly cryptic. While Donatello was no stranger to spending long periods of time on surveillance duty, he’d at least like to be informed on what the heck he should be looking for. So far the most “activity” the team had spotted was a security guard scratching his ass with gusto.

Now they were on their way back to the lair, but only so Donnie could retrieve his latest edition of the spy roach (as fond as he’d been of his little roach buddies over the years, the live roach part was recently phased out for a much more reliable robotic version, one that the genius turt is particularly proud of). Leo declared they “needed” it to get a closer look inside the factory. Donnie had immediately argued that they should just stealth their way in as they would on any other day, because spy roach 4.0 was precious, not easily recreated tech that should be reserved for essential missions only; Leo’s counter argument had basically boiled down to ‘don’t argue with me.’ 

Which had _severely_ exacerbated Don’s already foul mood. He cannot _stand_ it when Leo pulls the I’m-the-sensei-of-this-operation-so-just-do-it move with no real reasoning behind it. Usually at least Raph would have his back when Donnie spoke up against Leo’s odd power trip here and there (or, more likely, would be doing the speaking out himself). But his brother in red had just sat there in silence, looking infuriatingly indifferent to the whole conversation. Seriously, what was wrong with everybody today? So _ridiculous_.

April and Casey had been spared tonight’s fool’s errand, that lucky duck and bastard, respectively. While Jones had the excuse of working, April had been more vague about it, saying she was busy and couldn’t make it. Donnie’s stomach had sunk heavily when Leo relayed her text to the group earlier. He couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault that she didn’t want to come along.

As normally as they’d both been trying to act the last few days, Donnie could still sense things were just... _off_ between him and April. Tense, somehow. Aaand probably would be for the foreseeable future, all thanks to one stupid night of lapsed judgement. Which really, really sucked, but honestly, how could things not be off? Sure, April forgave him for the “Troll 2 debacle,” since being a kind and understanding and overall wonderful person is in her nature, but Donnie doesn’t quite feel like he earned that forgiveness. He still squirms on the spot every time the awful reality of it pops into his head, how he’d been all over her, and she’d been _unconscious_ for Darwin knows how long - that was not a ‘best friend’ move, it was the move of a... a scumbag! _Such_ a breach of trust, and April just deemed it all water under the bridge, just like that? He still doesn’t totally get it.

It’s all he’s been able to think about lately, leaving the turtle feeling extra hopeless, try as he might to hide it. His and April’s easy dynamic has been sent askew, and it’s his fault for being such a desperate, willfully ignorant loser. He needs to make that moment of weakness up to her, but how is he supposed to do that without making things more awkward than they already are?

The shrill, drawn out squeal of the Shellraiser’s brakes shakes Donnie out of yet another brain funk. 

“Alright, we’re here. Don, run in and get the roach cam.”

Arms crossed, Donnie leans out sideways from behind his console to bestow a withering look upon his bossy older brother. “You’re the one who’s so convinced we need it, _you_ go get it.”

Leo glares back at him. “Dude, we don’t have time for this. Stop being so immature and just go grab it!” 

Ohh, he’s _immature_ now? Once again Mikey and Raph stay uncharacteristically silent, leaving a fuming Donatello to feel like he’s being singled out by all of them. _I really don’t need this right now, guys!!_ After a few seconds Donnie narrows his eyes and grumbles, begrudgingly getting up from his seat and stalking off the remodeled subway car. 

The second Donnie steps onto the platform, there’s the ding of the automatic doors behind him, then the revving of the heavy-duty engine Donnie has lovingly repaired dozens of times with his own two hands - Don spins around mid “what the-” and is met with the sight of the Shellraiser screeching away, leaving purple mask tails fluttering in its wake.

His upper lip curling in disbelief, Donnie blinks at the empty tunnel a few times before throwing up his hands. “Sure, leave me here. Why not!” 

He’s just whipping out his T-phone with a snippy “what the hell, Leo” poised and ready to go on his tongue, when he registers the sound of soft music overlaying the usual idle sounds of the pinball machine. Curious, the young scientist walks over to push through the turnstiles, and the display he’s met with has Donnie stopping dead in his tracks. 

The living room pit has been transformed. The main lights have been dimmed, replaced with strings of white Christmas lights trailing their way around the edge of the pit, while a bunch of small lit jar candles have been placed every few feet along the couch, bathing the usually greenish subterranean space in a much softer, more intimate light. He can see where April’s laptop has been hooked up to play music through the television’s speakers, recognizing the slow, alternative rock song they’re both a fan of. One of the smaller carpets from the dojo has been rolled out over the drain grate in the center of the pit, and on top of that, two mismatched chairs have been pulled up to a table set for two, complete with white tablecloth, tea candles, and a tiny arrangement of lilacs peeking out of a chipped coffee mug.

Donnie blinks, brow ridges raising. _What the shell is -_

“…Hey, Dee.”

His head swivels around to see April approaching from the direction of the kitchen, her hand raised in a timid, I-come-in-peace soft of wave; Donnie’s breath catches in his throat, his lungs saying an abrupt goodbye to oxygen for a long string of seconds. 

To his knowledge, April O’Neil does not wear dresses - in her own words, they’re just not practical for carrying concealed weapons, or fighting on short notice, and he’s pretty sure the last time he saw her in one was her high school graduation day - but unless his eyes are deceiving him, she’s… _wow_ , she sure is wearing one now. A canary yellow number that has thin straps and tiny buttons down the bodice, that flawlessly hugs her top half (god, _damn_ ) and flows out at the waist to taper off just above her knees, a black pair of heeled ankle booties on her feet. She’s wearing a noticable amount of makeup too, another thing April doesn’t normally do, and her shiny red hair has been styled into a half up-do he’s never seen before, the loose half falling around her bare shoulders in soft waves. 

Holy, freakin’ Wingnut. She looks so. _Stunning_. 

Donnie couldn’t take his eyes off her if he wanted to. 

And yeah… he can _see_ April standing there at the bottom of the steps, all done up and gorgeous in the muted lighting, staring up at him with a hopeful-looking smile, and he can _hear_ the romantic music coming from where he knows there’s a table set for two, but his mind is having trouble accepting all of these not-normal things, all at once.

_You’re dreaming this. That or you’ve finally lost it. This can’t be what you think it is. Nope._

He can’t keep himself from asking, though.

“What… what is this?” Donnie braves the question, his jaw hanging on its hinges.

“Uh, well? it’s supposed to be for a date… for us… that I haven’t actually asked you on yet.” She pauses to tuck a stray curl behind her ear and glance over at the table and chairs, her lips quirking sheepishly. “Which, I am now realizing, is kind of presumptuous of me.” Her freckle-spattered shoulders lift with a nervous shrug-chuckle combo. “Too late now I guess...” 

Donnie just stares, robbed of speech. His wide eyes drift over to the romantic set up in the pit and back to her, and April starts to fidget before him, smoothing out her dress, playing with her hands a little. 

“I know, I know, it’s - kind of a lot. But... I needed to prove it to you,” April says, her voice becoming quiet and shy.

“Prove it to me?” Donnie echoes faintly.

“Yes.” April sucks in a breath, then marches her way up the stairs towards where Donnie is still rooted to his spot by the turnstiles, the heels of her boots clacking with resolve on each step. She comes to a stop a few feet in front of him, somehow even more impossibly beautiful up close, smelling goddamn fantastic to boot, her proximity leaving Don feeling a bit shaky and weak at the knees. She seems to reach out to him an inch, but falters, wringing her hands again, a pink flush painted across her cheeks. 

“Listen, I really need you to know, what happened the other night… that wasn’t an accident, Dee. I mean, I realize how sketchy it must’ve looked, to you. And I am… _so_ sorry, about my crappy timing. But I swear, Donnie, I knew what I was doing. It was something I’ve been wanting to do for… oof, god, a while now. And I guess, the liquid courage sort of,” she holds her hands a few inches apart and mimes moving something, “pushed me, over the edge a little? Ya know, just a _tad.._.”

Her awkward wince gets a tiny smile out of the turtle, but, still afraid to trust his gut feeling of what’s about to happen (because these things don’t _happen_ to him, they never have, and he’s wrong to expect them to) Donatello drops his gaze to the floor between them, biting the inside of his cheek. So he’s able to see exactly when her black boots step closer to his own bare, hulking feet on the concrete... and when her hands, small and pale, reach out to him tentatively, gripping onto either side of his misshapen green ones, hanging on tight. Donnie lets her, but otherwise can’t move, a lump beginning to form in his throat.

“Donnie,” April says - whispers, more like - and the sound of his name on her lips fills Don with an excruciating mix of terror and that old, familiar yearning. She doesn’t say anything more; it takes him one second too many to realize she’s waiting for him to look at her.

He counts to three in his head, then forces himself to meet her eyes, trying not to let on that he’s seconds away from losing it, depending on whatever she says next. “Mm-hm?” He strives for ‘normal,’ but overshoots and his voice comes out way too nonchalant, like they’re chatting over coffee and the news. _Shit, shit_. The lump in Donnie’s throat swells.

“Truth is, I haven’t... been able to get you out of my head, lately,” April goes on, her face bright red at this point, and then jokes halfheartedly, “i-it’s almost like, I’m in love with you, or something...” She clears her throat, hastily dropping any air of joking around. “Which, I am - er, I do. Love you. Sorry, god, I’m bad at this.” She shuts her eyes and shakes her head, flustered in a way that makes his heart ricochet around like a game of ninja dodgeball happening in his chest, then takes a deep breath, in through her nose and out her mouth. Squeezing his hands, she opens her mouth again, her eyes back to boring into his. 

“I love you, Donnie.”

Time ceases to exist, the words echoing in his head several times over. To his horror, Donatello feels his eyes start to prickle, his vision growing fuzzy, the tightness in his throat escalating from annoying to painful, with absolutely nothing he can do to stave off the feeling.

And to his _further_ horror, the best response he can come up with to a fully sober and self-autonomous April O’Neil saying those 3 words in his direction is a breathy, distant, “...oh.”

“...Oh?” April says in a tiny voice, anxiously searching his face, probably due to his lackluster response.

His mask scrunches for a hard, _don’t-even-think-about-it-eyeballs_ blink as Donnie’s brain grapples with pulling his chaotic rush of thoughts into some sort of order, his heart hammering faster and faster. “Uh, how… how long…?”

April’s face falls with something like shame as she brings her gaze down to their joined hands. “Um, yeah, so. The way I feel about you isn’t, really… new.” 

She bites her lip, still not looking at him, and it takes Donnie .02 more seconds to figure out what she means by that. “ _Oh_ ,” he says again, dumbstruck. “...does. Does Casey know?”

To his surprise, April’s response to that is an awkward chuckle. “Believe it or not, Casey was the one who, shall we say... forced me to pull my head out of my ass about it? Riiight before he broke up with me.”

Donnie is certain his hands would be shaking a lot worse if April wasn’t holding them. “Uh, is he-”

“It’s okay, though. I think. We - talked, and… Casey’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure he might’ve known for a while, too. ”

Don just nods slowly at that. April lifts her head, a small, anguished crease between her eyebrows.

“I should’ve told you sooner, I-I know that,” she follows up quickly, swallowing hard. “I… ugh, I should’ve done a lot of things. It just - took me a while to figure it out, and then I, I guess I was-”

“It’s okay, April,” Donnie cuts in gently, because while he understands what she’s trying to do, there’s really no need. “I, um,” He turns his hands over so they’re palm-up, closing them around April’s before hers can fall away. “I love you too.” Setting the long-trapped words free, quiet and sincere, straight from his heart to her face… it has him feeling about ready to float away.

“Yeah...?” 

“ _Oh_ yeah,” he breathes out, nodding just barely, his brown eyes growing round and urgent. “Big time.”

Donnie is a little frustrated with himself because the words don’t do his feelings justice, like, at _all_ , but lucky for him, they seem to be enough for April. She’s nodding slowly, her bottom lip pinned by her front teeth, a massive smile threatening to escape from behind her pearly whites. “I… sort of suspected, but. It’s _really_ good to hear it, um. Straight from the turtle’s mouth.”

Donnie tilts his head, giving her a long look. “You suspected.”

“Ah, you know, just - a _small_ inkling.” April keeps her unsteady poker face going for a few seconds more before she can no longer hold back her thrilled smile, and Donnie bursts with a giddy laugh at the sight of it, some of the pesky moisture in his eyes escaping from the corners. 

“You okay?” The concerned, staggeringly blue eyes fixed on him do nothing to help stem the flow.

“Uh huh... I’m good. H-ha…” Donnie shakes his head quickly, embarrassed of his visceral physical reaction. “Darwin’s Beard, I don’t think I’ve ever been better.”

“Me neither.” April is so obviously glowing with elation as she takes the final step, eliminating the space between them. Her fingers slide up his arms to hold his shoulders, sending goosebumps flurrying over his skin, while his own floaty-feeling hands land on her waist. Both of them are jittery messes by this point. 

“I wanna do this for real, Dee. Me and you, no more pretending…”

“Holy shit,” the weak mumble wisps out, under his breath.

“I love you so much, and, I wanna be _with_ you,” April finishes in a heartfelt whisper, “if you still want-”

“Yes!!” Donnie blurts, unable to let her finish the most unnecessary sentence ever, only halfway regretting squawking right in her face. “Sorry. But yeah, I-I really... fuck. I want that more than anything, April.”

His best friend seems way too pleased that she’s stolen away his grip on the English language andreduced him to cursing, but Donnie couldn’t care less, she can have it, she can have it all, meanwhile he’ll be over here, happily preoccupied with the way April is tilting her head and leaning up to him - holy mackerel, finally he can admit it, he has been _dying_ to feel her lips on his again-

“Oh, hang on, I was going to -” April pauses her advance to whisk a purple crocus out of a hidden pocket on her dress. She holds it out to him, her features arranged into something _much_ suaver, and the turtle has to bite his wobbly lip to keep from laughing, rejoicing that the love of his life is just as much of a dork as he is. “A-hem. Donnie. Will you go out with me? Er, I guess, go _in_ , to be more accurate -- mm.” 

The second time Donnie kisses April mid-sentence, it goes a lot more smoothly. Still cupping the side of her head, he takes his sweet time drawing away from her, one wide, flat thumb stroking her cheek.

“Heck yeah I will.”

April beams up at him, then joyfully pulls the towering mutant down into a longer, deeper kiss. Donnie melts into her with a sound that is unapologetically blissful, the taste of April’s lipgloss and the feel of her warm mouth molded to his becoming his entire world. He lets his hands trace up and down her back, relishing all the bare skin he finds there, thanks to the cut of her dress. They both breathe out a few dopey, stunned giggles upon breaking apart.

“Wow... feels so good to do that sober,” April admits, way more out of breath than she has any right to be.

“Y-you’re tellin’ me!” Donnie guffaws, his awestruck expression bordering on manic. He leans down until their foreheads touch, his eyes falling back to her glossy lips. “In fact, I ah, I might need one more of those...”

“Just _one?_ ” April shoots back with no less than 2 eyebrow wiggles, making Don titter stupidly before he leans down and claims her lips again, his arms holding her tight. 

When they part, April makes quick work of tucking the little purple bud into the buckle of his shoulder strap, the end result giving the impression of a makeshift boutonniere. “Come on,” she takes hold of his hand to start eagerly leading him into the pit, “we’ve got a whole three hours to ourselves before the guys come back, and I plan on making the most of our first date.” She winks at him over her shoulder, making Donnie’s face light up with another insta-blush. A few more nervous, high pitched chuckles bubble out of him, his mind still fumbling to catch up with the unbelievable turn this night has taken (thus far Donatello’s fearsomely powerful brain can’t seem to get much further past the ‘ _she loves me!! April loves me!!’_ part).

Donnie hurries ahead to draw her chair out for her as they approach the table - the same way he’s imagined doing, oh, only a hundred or so times - his chest buoying when April doesn’t protest or poke fun at him, just grins, gathers up her dress and sits. 

“Thanks.”

“N-no problem.”

Gingerly moving around to take his own seat, the turtle is blown away by the sight he’s met with - April across from him, looking like a vision in that yellow dress, wearing a radiant smile. His stomach quivers. This really is a real, actual date. A date with April, in his own living room… 

There’s a tiny lull in the conversation, the two long-time friends struggling a little with the adjustment of being together in this new context, as welcome as it is. During the pause Don takes note that the dishes and glassware on the table are several notches fancier than anything he or April owns - she must have borrowed this stuff from her dad.

“You look really beautiful,” Donnie finally voices the thought, a touch of shyness to the compliment. It’s annoying to be sitting here and still feel so timid, seeing as they’d just confessed to each other ( _APRIL LOVES ME!!!_ His mind shouts helpfully for the forty-fifth time) and kissed three times. But he can’t shake the awareness that he’s very much out of his element, here.

“Aw, thanks.” April’s smile widens. “Bought this dress special for the occasion.” 

_AKA, she bought it for you! Because she loves you!!_  


“Well, it’s very - it’s, it’s -” At her mention of it, Donatello fails to prevent his eyes from flickering down to the part of the dress he can see, which is pretty much just the bodice and a _lot_ more cleavage than he’s used to seeing on April... “Nice. Very nice. A-plus, um. Choice.” He tries to distract from his reddening cheeks by taking a sip of water, but it goes down the wrong pipe and he ends up choking. 

April just looks amused, but her expression turns awkward when Don tries to speak too early and sputters with more coughs. “You okay? Need me to come thump you on the shell?”

“N-nope! I’m fine… I was just gonna say, I feel a little underdressed compared to you.” 

April props her chin in her palm, her eyes giving him an up-and-down as a playful smirk curls her lips. “Don’t worry about it, I have _no_ complaints about the view.” Upon realizing April is _actively checking him out,_ the brainy turtle short-circuits, scrambling for something to say and damn thankful he wasn’t drinking water when she said that. 

“It’s, heh. It’s kind of weird being in here without the sound of video games or someone wailing on the punching dummy,” Donnie rubs the back of his neck, opting for a subject change.

“Not too weird, right?”

He shakes his head, reaching out to cover her hand with his and give it a squeeze. “No, it’s perfect. Seriously, this is amazing.”

“Better than what you pictured, orrr...” 

“Oh, _loads_ better. I had no idea you were so skilled in arranging sewer dates, April.” Donnie caps off the flirting with half-mast eyelids and a quirk of his brow ridges, starting to feel braver. 

“It did take some finagling, and a lot of sneaking around… gotta give the guys credit though, they really nailed distraction duty.”

“Dammit, I _knew_ they were trying to piss me off on purpose...” The pair falls into a bout of laughter, and Don nods toward the covered casserole dish on the table through his enormous smile. “So, I’m on the edge of my seat here, what’re we having?”

“Well. Prepare to be _very_ proud of me, because I cooked,” April whisks the cover off the casserole dish, “ribeye, for the first time ever. Plus baked summer squash, aaand,” she reveals what’s inside a smaller serving bowl, “homemade garlic mashed potatoes, baby.”

Donnie’s mouth instantly begins to water; he can count the number of times he’s had a meal this extravagant on one hand, and he’s only got 3 fingers. “Wow! This looks awesome, you really balled out,” he gushes. 

“Yeah, well - again, special occasion.” April cracks another one of those genuine smiles that sends his heart straight back to racing status. “ _And_ there’s chocolate peanut butter pie waiting in the kitchen after we’re done,” she adds, her voice low and husky as she gives her eyebrows a waggle. 

Officially overcome, Donnie’s hand moves clutch hers again, his head bowing towards the table. “My god I love you...” 

“Mikey actually helped me with dessert,” April manages to say through her giggles, then pats Don’s hand with her free one at the turtle’s skeptical reaction to this news. “It’s cool, I was there the whole time supervising. And I hid his thousand-year-old jellybean stash for good measure.”

“Seems like you thought of everything.” Donnie rubs his thumb over the backs of her fingers, voice soft with admiration. 

“Well, I tried to, at least.” 

Donatello is just contemplating the mechanics of leaning across the table for a kiss when April leans off to the side, plucking up a bottle from a small cooler on the floor. “So, wine?” Donnie’s wide smile drops in an instant, and April snorts a laugh. “I’m kidding! It’s sparkling cider. Oh my god, Dee, your _face_.”

He shakes his head as she giggles behind her hand. “Yeah, too soon, April.”

His very first date with April isn’t quite what he’d envisioned as a lovesick teenager… which turns out to be a good thing. Donatello never once pictured it taking place in his made over and brother-free living room, and he never in a million years would have dared to imagine April cooking this badass, toe-curlingly delicious meal for him (in his head, she was always the one being wowed and dazzled, not the other way around). The fantasy version of their date was also much more ‘serious romance only,’ while in real life, there’s a lot more laughter and goofing around happening, once they got over that initial hump of reservation - which happened pretty damn quickly.

There are _some_ things that fall right in line with what he’d always hoped for. Like candles, mood music, getting to hold her hand and gaze into her eyes, and have her look fondly right back at him… having her refer to him as her boyfriend at one point, no fuss, as if that’s the way things had always been ( _that_ had been a major highlight of the night, scratch that, of his life).

Later, when they’re both content and full of peanut butter pie, the pair relocates to the couch, sitting so close their thighs are touching, one of Donnie’s arms resting behind April as she flips channels. The conversation has died away, the air between them now thick with something that has all of Donnie’s nerve endings wired, his pulse whirring away under his skin. It’s not an awkward or terrifying something, like the last time he found himself in this position. More like… anticipation. 

_Heavy_ anticipation. 

Don licks his dry lips, his fingers brushing up and down the soft skin of her arm. Every fiber of his DNA screams for him to kiss her, but they haven’t been sitting here very long and he doesn’t want to jump the gun on anything.

He’s not expecting it when April suddenly turns off the television, tosses the remote aside. She’s still looking towards the screen as she asks, “would you, maybe wanna skip the part where we pretend to watch something for five minutes?”

Donnie feels his face flush. “Uh huh,” he nods, probably way too eagerly. “Sure would.” Without wasting another second, April saves him the trouble of overthinking the first move by rising up to her knees beside him, and suddenly the turtle finds himself with a lap full of gorgeous redhead. 

“Redo?” April smiles, letting her arms slink around his shell.

“Heh,” Donnie puffs out a nervous chuckle, placing his hands on her hips and trying to rein in the explosion of butterflies in his stomach over having April in his lap. “Yeah, redo.” He swallows, his eyes flicking towards the turnstiles, and his psychic, brand new girlfriend picks up on the source of his anxiety in a millisecond. She leans in closer, moving her hands to tenderly frame either side of his round face. 

“Don’t worry,” she whispers, pausing to press a kiss to his cheek that makes Don shiver lightly; unlike her cheek kisses of the past, this one is lingering and full of promise. “I made Leo agree to send a fifteen minute warning text before they come back. No one’s gonna walk in on us, I promise.”

With his worries finally quelled (in so many more ways than one), Donnie is able to fully return April’s bright, excited smile. Weaving his broad fingers through her soft red waves, he gently guides her face down to his, until their lips connect - which is pretty much how their lips stay for the better part of an hour. And this time, nobody comes anywhere _close_ to falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i went ham with the fluff, no regrets. i just really like the idea of april being the one to ask donnie out on a date and then everything's just... chill and happy. apritello, man. i goddam love that shit. it's the ultimate being loved/accepted for who you are pairing and i just love donnie and april as individual characters + their friendship dynamic so much, so it's like. ahhhhhh. i'm dwellin' 
> 
> thanks for reading my goopy story, hope you enjoyed! leave me a comment if you can, hearing from ya'll makes my weirdly unoccupied days brighter. peace <3


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